the sharp flint-knife, and with one stroke scratched the skin of
his own and the others' forearms, so that the blood of all flowed in
red drops into the brazen cauldron. Then they retook their former
positions, and the old man continued murmuring:

"And we swear the solemn oath,
To sacrifice all that is ours,
House, horse, and armour,
Court, kindred, and cattle,
Wife, weapons, and wares,
Son, and servants, and body, and life,
To the glance and glory of the race of Gaut,
To the good Goths.
And who of us would withdraw
From honouring the oath with all sacrifices--"

here he, and at a sign, the others also, stepped out of the ditch from
under the strip of turf--

"His red blood shall run unrevenged
Like this water under the wood-sod--"

he lifted the cauldron, poured its bloody contents into the ditch, and
then took it out, together with the other implements--

"Upon his head shall the halls of Heaven
Crash cumbrous down and crush him,
Solid as this sod."

At one stroke he struck down the three supporting lance-shafts, and
dully fell the heavy turf-roof back into the ditch. The five men now
placed themselves again on the spot thus covered by the turf, with
their hands entwined, and the old man said in more rapid tones:

"Whosoever does not keep this oath; whosoever does not protect his
blood-brother like his own brother during his life, and revenge his
death; whosoever refuses to sacrifice everything that he possesses to
the people of the Goths, when called upon to do so by a brother in case
of necessity, shall be for ever subject to the eternal and infernal
powers which reign under the green grass of the earth; good men shall
tread with their feet over the perjurer's head, and his name shall be
without honour wherever Christian folk ring bells and heathen folk
offer sacrifices, wherever mothers caress their children and the wind
blows over the wide world. Say, companions, shall it be thus with the
vile perjurer?"

"Thus shall it be with him," repeated the four men.

After a grave pause, Hildebrand loosened the chain of their hands, and
said:

"That you may know why I bade you come hither, and how sacred this
place is to me, come and see."

With this he lifted the torch and went before them behind the mighty
trunk of the oak, in front of which they had taken the oath. Silently
his friends followed, and saw with astonishment, that, exactly in a
line with the turfy ditch in which they had stood, there yawned a wide
and open grave, from which the slab of stone had been rolled away. At
the bottom, shining ghastly in the light of the torch, lay three long
white skeletons; a few rusty pieces of armour, lance-points, and
shield-bosses lay beside them.

The men looked with surprise; now into the grave, now at Hildebrand. He
silently held the torch over the chasm for some minutes. At last he
said quietly:

"My three sons. They have lain here for more than thirty years. They
fell on this mountain in the last battle for the city of Ravenna. They
fell in the same hour; to-day is the day. They rushed with joyous
shouts against the enemies' spears--for their people."

He ceased. The men looked down with emotion. At last the old man drew
himself up and glanced at the sky.

"It is enough," said he, "the stars are paling. Midnight is long since
past. You three return into the city. Thou, Teja, wilt surely remain
with me; to thee, more than to any other, is given the gift of sorrow,
as of song; and keep with me the guard of honour beside the dead."

Teja nodded, and sat down without a word at the foot of the grave, just
where he was standing. The old man gave Totila the torch, and leaned
opposite Teja against the stone slab. The other three signed to him
with a parting gesture. Gravely, and buried in deep thought, they
descended to the city.

CHAPTER III.

A few weeks after this midnight meeting near Ravenna an assembly took
place in Rome; just as secret, also under protection of night, but held
by very different persons for very different aims.

It took place on the Appian Way, near the C[oe]meterium of St.
Calixtus, in a half-ruined passage of the Catacombs; those mysterious
underground ways, which almost make a second city under the streets and
squares of Rome.

These secret vaults--originally old burial-places, often the refuge of
young Christian communities--are so intricate, and their crossings,
terminations, exits, and entrances so difficult to thread, that they
can only be entered under the guidance of some one intimately
acquainted with their inner recesses.

But the men, whose secret intercourse we are about to watch, feared no
danger. They were well led. For it was Silverius, the Catholic
archdeacon of the old church of St. Sebastian, who had led his friends
direct from the crypt of his basilica down a steep staircase into this
branch of the vaults; and the Roman priests had the reputation of
having studied the windings of these labyrinths since the days of the
first confessor.

The persons assembled also seemed not to have met there for the first
time; the gloom of the place made little impression upon them.
Indifferently they leaned against the walls of the dismal semi-circular
room, which, scantily lighted by a hanging lamp of bronze, formed the
termination of the low passage. Indifferently they heard the drops of
damp fall from the roof to the floor, or, when their feet now and then
struck against white and mouldering bones, they calmly pushed them to
one side.

Besides Silverius, there were present a few other orthodox priests, and
a number of aristocratic Romans, nobles of the Western Empire, who had
remained for centuries in almost hereditary possession of the higher
dignities of the state and city.

Silently and attentively they observed the movements of the archdeacon;
who, after having mustered those present, and thrown several searching
glances into the neighbouring passages--where might be seen, keeping
watch in the gloom, some youths in clerical costume--now evidently
prepared to open the assembly in form.

Yet once again he went up to a tall man who leaned motionless against
the wall opposite to him, and with whom he had repeatedly exchanged
glances; and when this man had replied to a questioning gesture by a
silent nod, he turned to the others and spoke.

"Beloved in the name of the triune God! Once again are we assembled
here to do a holy work. The sword of Edom is brandished over our heads,
and King Pharaoh pants for the blood of the children of Israel. We,
however, do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the
soul, we fear much more those who may destroy both body and soul in
hell-fire. We trust, during the terrors of night, to His help who led
His people through the wilderness, in the day by a cloud of smoke, at
night by a pillar of fire. And to this we will hold fast: that what we
suffer, we suffer for God's sake; what we do, we do to the honour of
His name. Thanks to Him, for He has blest our zeal. Small as those of
the Gospel were our beginnings, but we are already grown like a tree by
the fresh water-springs. With fear and trembling we first assembled
here; great was our danger, weak our hope; noble blood of the best has
been shed; to-day, if we remain firm in faith, we may boldly say that
the throne of King Pharaoh is supported on reeds, and that the days of
the heathen are counted in the land."

"To business!" interrupted a young man with short curly black hair and
brilliant black eyes. Impatiently he threw his _sagum_ (or short cloak)
back over his right shoulder, so that his broad sword became visible.
"To business, priest! What shall be done to-night?"

Silverius cast a look at the youth, which, with all its unctuous
repose, could not quite conceal his lively dissatisfaction at such bold
independence. In a sharp tone of voice he continued:

"Those who do not believe in the holiness of our aim, should not, were
it only for the sake of their own worldly aims, try to disturb the
belief of others in its sanctity. But to-night, my Licinius, my hasty
young friend, a new and highly welcome member is to be added to our
league; his accession is a visible sign of the grace of God."

"Who will you introduce? Are the conditions fulfilled? Do you answer
for him unconditionally, or have you other surety?" So asked another of
those present, a man of ripe years with regular features, who, a staff
between his feet, sat quietly on a projection of the wall.

"Nothing of the sort. The statutes of our league demand surety, and I
insist upon it," said Scævola quietly.

"Good, good; I will be surety, toughest of all jurists!" repeated the
priest with a smile.

He made a sign towards one of the passages to the left.

From thence appeared two young _ostiarii_ (doorkeepers), leading a man
into the middle of the vault, upon whose covered head all eyes were
fixed. After a pause, Silverius lifted the cover from the head and
shoulders of the new comer.